


The Other Professor

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Professor Sam Campbell AU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Professor Sam, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spin-off of my Professor Winchester series. Professor Sam Campbell has been Dean’s best friend for years. Just when Dean’s life seems to be coming together, Sam’s seems to be falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Professor

**Author's Note:**

> Sam’s last name is Campbell (his mother’s maiden name) because he and Dean are not related.

You watched the two men at the end of the bar, in part because it was your job as a waitress to make sure they never ran out of beer, but mostly because they were both extremely attractive. Especially the one with the shaggy, chocolate brown hair, long fingers and sad smile.

They’d both been in before, sometimes together, sometimes alone. They were professors at the university, Sam Campbell and Dean Winchester. You didn’t wait on them several times a week without getting to know their names.

Sam, the one with the shaggy brown hair, had actually been in a lot more as of late, alone, sitting in a corner drinking beer after beer. Some nights, when he seemed especially down, he would throw back a couple of shots of whiskey, cringing as the liquid burned its way down his throat. You’d had to call him a cab a couple of times when he’d been too drunk to even pull his phone from his pocket.

Your shift was nearly over when you brought yet another beer to him, his fourth or fifth, just as his friend was heading for the door, his phone pressed to his ear.

“You heading out, too?” you asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Not yet. How about some whiskey?”

“You think that’s a good idea?” you smiled. “Remember what happened last time?”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “It was pretty ugly. All I remember is waking up sprawled across my couch with no recollection of how I got there. I’m not sure I ever thanked you for that.”

“It was nothing,” you shrugged, patting the hand he had resting on the bar top.

“No, it wasn’t,” he insisted, twisting his hand to squeeze your fingers. “I...um...it was a bad night. I appreciate you not letting me get behind the wheel of a car in that condition. Really.”

You were blushing furiously, the sincere smile on his face and the intensity of his stare affecting you in ways you’d only imagined. You pulled your fingers free of his hand and cleared your throat.

“I’m, uh, about to, uh, get off, um...leave for the night,” you stammered. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No,” Sam murmured. “I’m good.” He picked up the beer you had just set in front of him, staring at a spot over your shoulder.

You nodded, even though you didn’t believe him. You helped a couple more customers and wiped down the tables, constantly checking on Sam out of the corner of your eye. He sipped at his beer, picking at the label each time he set it down. When you emerged from the back after taking off your apron and grabbing your purse, the label was lying next to the bottle, looking almost as lonely as he did.

You looked toward the door, ran a hand through your hair and made a decision that would change the course of your life.

“Hey, Sam?” you said, lightly touching his elbow. “When’s the last time you had a decent meal?”

His eyebrows shot up, a slightly confused look on his face. “I’m not sure,” he muttered. “I ate at the student union, um, yesterday I guess?”

“How about you walk a girl home and in return, I’ll feed you some food that wasn’t made in an industrial kitchen?” you offered.

Sam smiled almost shyly and you could tell he was about to protest, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“I’m serious,” you said. “You look like you could use a good meal and a friend. I’m happy to help.”

He finally nodded, pulled his wallet free and dropped some cash to the counter. He followed you from the bar, walking beside you at a comfortable distance.

You smiled at him, silently praying that you hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

* * *

Dinner wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you had thought it would be, in fact it turned out to be fun. You warmed up leftover lasagna and threw some salad in a bowl. Sam insisted on helping, setting the table in your small apartment and opening a bottle of wine. The two of you slipped into easy conversation, him talking about his job as a professor at the university, you about the online business classes you were taking. You talked about siblings, parents, and before you knew it, former significant others. That was when Sam’s side of the conversation dried up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “Was the break-up recent?”

He took a sip of his wine before answering. He sat up straight, adjusted the legs of his khaki pants and cleared his throat. “A few weeks ago,” he answered. “We...um...we were going to get married, but, um, she had other ideas.”

“Well, she was an idiot,” you said, pushing back your chair. You cleared the table, not looking at Sam as you piled plates in the sink. You turned on the hot water and dumped some soap on top of the dirty dishes. You hummed as the sink filled, staring out the tiny window. A few minutes later, Sam joined you, drying the dishes as you finished washing them.

Once the dishes were washed and put away, you grabbed the bottle of wine from the table. “Come on, Sam,” you smiled. “Let’s finish this bottle.”

Sam joined you in the living room, sitting beside you on the tiny loveseat. He took the bottle out of your hand and refilled both of your glasses, then he set the bottle on the floor. He took off his glasses, leaned back and closed his eyes, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

“This was nice, Y/N,” he mumbled. “Really nice. Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing, really,” you giggled, bumping your leg against his. “Leftover lasagna and a bowl of salad.”

Sam turned his head to look at you, his hazel eyes serious. “No, seriously,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “I really needed this. It means a lot that...well, just, thank you.”

Without thinking, you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, murmuring ‘you’re welcome’ as you pulled away. You didn’t get far because his long fingers tangled in your hair, stopping you and then he was pulling you back to his mouth, nibbling tenderly at your lower lip, his tongue tracing over it.

To your own surprise, you leaned into it, opening your mouth to him, letting him explore, his tongue sliding past your teeth and brushing over yours. The kiss deepened, gentle and easy, but a little bit urgent. Sam sat up, his lips never leaving yours as he set his glasses and both of your wine glasses on the table. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you on top of him as he stretched out on the tiny loveseat, one leg hanging off the end of the small couch, the other over the side with his foot planted on the floor.

He was warm, really warm, his body hard and muscular under the khakis, dress shirt and v-neck sweater he was wearing. His lips were soft and very kissable, and when you tentatively ran your fingers through his hair, tugging it just a little bit, he let out a breathy little moan that sent tingles rushing through you.

Sam was sweet and gentle, though you could sense a hard edge to him that he seemed to be holding back. You were completely caught up in him, his warm body under yours, the feel of his hands as they roamed over you, the taste of him in your mouth, the smell of his aftershave on the skin at the edge of his jaw, and the hard length of his arousal against your hip.

You pressed your hips into his, grinding against him, moaning as his thigh shifted, rubbing the seam of your jeans against your rapidly overheating core. Sam’s hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, warm against your already hot skin, pulling you closer to him.

You broke off the kiss reluctantly, using the hands you had splayed over his chest to push yourself  up enough to look at him. “Bedroom?” you whispered as you stared into Sam’s lust blown eyes.

He nodded and rose to his feet, easily holding you in his arms as he did. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pointing the way to the bedroom while your lips explored the area right beneath his jaw.

Sam set you on your feet and set to work removing your shirt, his fingers nimbly unbuttoning it and pushing it off. You wrestled with the belt on his pants as he toed off his boots and yanked both his sweater and dress shirt over his head. Clothes were quickly scattered across the floor, then you were stumbling toward the bed.

Now that there was nothing between you, whatever control Sam had been holding onto, snapped. He pushed you down on the bed, his hand shoved between your legs, his fingers sliding through your slick as he suckled your breast, tugging at the nipple repeatedly with his teeth. You moaned, trying to keep pace with him, running your hands over his taut muscles, your fingers brushing over his cock.

He growled low in the back of his throat and took hold of your wrist, urging you to take him in your hand. You grasped him, stroking him roughly. He growled again and moved up your body, catching your lips in his. He slid a single finger inside you, his palm pressed hard against your clit, pumping it in and out in time with your strokes along his cock. You were both writhing and moaning obscenely, bodies on fire, skin rubbing against skin. Sam slipped another finger into your wet pussy, brushing it over that spot that made you feel like every nerve ending had been set on fire.

You were gasping, clutching at the blankets on the bed, right on the cusp of an incredible orgasm, when Sam pulled away, leaving you squirming in agonizing bliss. “Sam,” you groaned. “What the hell?”

He kept one hand splayed over your stomach as he sat up between your knees. “Shit,” he groused. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a condom?”   

“Top drawer,” you mumbled, pointing in the general direction of the table next to the bed. For once you were actually grateful you hadn’t cleaned your lousy ex’s stuff out of the apartment yet.

Sam leaned over you, easily reaching the drawer with his long arms. He pulled a condom out, ripped it open with his teeth and slid it on. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him and biting your lip in anticipation until he leaned over and tugged it free. He winked at you as he wrapped you in his arms and eased inside of you.

You dug your nails into his back as he filled you, the feeling like nothing you’d ever experienced. Once he was fully seated inside you, his nose buried against your neck, he moved, slowly thrusting, lifting your hips so he could bury himself even deeper inside you. His lips moved over your neck, your jaw, your mouth, kissing you all over, every thrust of his hips emphasized with an exhale of his breath against your skin.

At first it was like the kissing on the couch, slow and easy, with that sense of barely contained urgency, but as you moved, your bodies sliding against each other, kissing and thrusting, it changed, becoming faster and harder, until Sam was slamming into you, his long fingers digging into your hips as he held you, his quiet grunts filling your ears.

You were completely overwhelmed by the feelings now taking you over, your hips bucking up to meet his, desperate to feel him, to feel him pumping in and out of you, to feel him filling you over and over until you were pushed right up to the edge, exploding in a starburst of sensations, the orgasm perfect and unbelievable. You screamed his name as you came, your legs tightening around his waist.

He groaned loudly, rocking his hips into yours, his cock twitching inside you as your walls tightened around him, drawing his own orgasm from him. He thrust into you several more times before collapsing to the bed beside you, gulping in deep breaths.

“Wow,” you murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. “That was...wow…”

“Thanks,” Sam laughed, intertwining his fingers with yours. You could feel the smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

You propped yourself on your elbow and traced a finger in circles over his chest. “If you want to stay here tonight, I’d be okay with that,” you said quietly, hoping you sounded more nonchalant than you thought you did.

Sam turned to look at you, a sleepy smile on his face. He put his hand on your hip and pressed a kiss to your lips. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he whispered. “If you don’t mind.” He pulled you close, nuzzling your neck, hugging you to his chest.

You didn’t mind at all.

* * *

The light streaming through your bedroom woke you up, rather than the alarm clock on your phone or worse, your own stupid head dragging you out of sleep because you were once again worrying over your breakup with Michael. You squinted, turning your head to the side, hoping to see a shaggy-haired, university professor asleep in your bed.

He was gone.

You sat up, disappointment flooding you. You climbed from the bed, grabbed a t-shirt from the end of the bed and pulled it on. You wandered through your apartment, hoping to stumble on Sam. But it was empty. Sighing, you headed for the kitchen, coffee at the top of your agenda.

You should have known he’d skip out. It wasn’t like the two of you had a commitment or any kind of agreement, it had just been sex. Incredible sex, but just sex nonetheless. And he’d just gotten out of a serious relationship, in fact, he’d been _dumped_ , if you remembered that conversation correctly. Spending the night with you had probably been nothing more than a chance to relieve some tension and get laid, without any promises made. You just hoped the next time he was in the bar, things wouldn’t be too awkward.

While your coffee brewed, you headed for the bedroom to clean up, completely oblivious to the half sheet of paper with Sam’s handwriting that fluttered to the floor as you walked past the coffee table to your room. It landed under the loveseat, right next to the gold and diamond engagement ring that had fallen from his pocket the night before.


End file.
